Aftermath
by stella-pegasi
Summary: John Sheppard and Rodney McKay deal with the aftermath of a Wraith attack on a peaceful planet.  Episode Tag:  Outsiders/Season 5


**Title:** **Aftermath**

**Author**: _stella_pegasi_

**Rating: **K + (Language)

**Genres: **Episode Tag, Gen, Angst, Friendship

**Word Count: ~**2,885

**Spoilers: **_**Outsiders,**_Tag for episode

**Warnings:** Expletives NOT Deleted

**Characters:** John Sheppard, Rodney McKay

**Disclaimer: **I do not own them; I would have treated them better.

**Summary:** John Sheppard and Rodney McKay deal with the aftermath of a Wraith attack on a peaceful planet

**Author's Notes:** Written for LiveJournal Community Stargateland's "What Should Have Been" Challenge. The prompt is to write a missing scene/tag for an episode of any Stargate series. Proud Team Atlantis Member.

The story contains emotional whump; however, I did add one minute, minor, little, tiny physical whump moment to honor the whumpers.

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Aftermath…

_by stella_pegasi_

The strong spray of hot water cascading down his body felt soothing, cleansing, warming. The hard pelting water was massaging and loosening his taut, knotted muscles. John Sheppard seriously considered staying in the shower until Woolsey sent the Marines to his quarters in order to remove him forcibly, and insist he returned to duty.

He wasn't certain how much time passed before he decided that he was becoming water-logged. Reluctantly, he turned the water off with a thought, and the shower's body dryer on. John stood for a minute, allowing warm air emitting from the jets scattered around the shower to flow across his skin. He stepped from the sizeable shower, his favorite thing about his quarters, snatching a towel from the rack. As he vigorously dried his hair, he turned toward the vanity and glanced in the mirror, chuckling at his reflection. No matter what he did to his hair, it stood straight up on the top of his head. Everyone one thought he achieved the look with hair gel. He chuckled again; the gel was what kept it under control.

Reaching for his toothbrush, John felt a twinge of pain in his shoulder. Returning from the mission, he and Ronon had leapt through the gate, only seconds from being scooped up in a Wraith beam. They had exited the gate on Atlantis approximately three feet in the air, and both had slammed hard into the floor of gate room. He was thankful; other than a few bruises and pulled muscles, none of his team had been injured seriously, at least, physically. He sighed, his head sagging to his chest, his hands resting on the vanity. Physical wasn't the only kind of injury; sometimes the emotional and mental toll was just as deadly.

He shivered as he padded barefoot across the floor; silently, he bumped up the ambient temperature in his quarters. Slipping on his favorite track pants and a t-shirt, he pulled up some tunes on his laptop. Then he grabbed a beer from the small fridge, the sandwich he picked up in the mess, his latest golf magazine, and flopped down on his narrow bunk. He settled in and started thumbing through the magazine.

His intended relaxation lasted all of five minutes before the events of the mission came flooding into his mind. It should have been a pleasant visit. The mission consisted of delivering medical supplies to Carson and his roaming clinic. The team was looking forward to spending some quality time with Carson. As General O'Neill would say, the mission was 'a piece of cake.' He muttered to himself, "Yeah, John; since when was anything in the Pegasus galaxy 'a piece of cake?' You just killed a bunch of people today." He threw the magazine onto his bedside table.

He laid his head against the wall, "Don't worry, John, have a beer, listen to some tunes. It's just another day in space." He took a long swig from his beer, and a large bite of his sandwich, which he realized he didn't want. The beer, however, was another matter; he hopped up and grabbed another cold one from the fridge.

John walked to the window, leaning on the wall as he gazed out over Atlantis. He sought to clear his mind of the memories of what he had been forced to do on that peaceful planet. The indigent population had willingly taken in the Balarans refugees, not realizing they were victims of the Hoffan plague. He believed that they would have taken them in regardless if they had known. But fear won out among some of the villagers forcing events to race out of control quickly; events that lead him to kill.

Jervis was a thug. He probably had always been a bad ass in the village; that much Sheppard was certain of. However, it wasn't his habit of killing someone for being a thug. The fact that they were afraid of the Wraith, and fearful of losing their own lives, drove Jervis and his followers into mob mentality, which led to their deaths. Jervis thought they could turn the Balarans over to the Wraith, and the Wraith would honor the deal they offered. Sheppard turned from the window, sitting down on the edge of his bed, placing his beer on the floor. He shook his head as he asked himself, when had the Wraith ever honored a deal? Well, perhaps, Todd came close; but he wouldn't turn his back on Todd.

John sighed and lay back, across the width of his bed. He realized that nothing changed the fact that he had killed several Wraith, which he didn't have an issue with, as well as several villagers. He could convince himself that Jervis was no better than the Wraith, willingly taking innocent lives. The Wraith killed humans in order to survive. Jervis had been willing to do the same. So, why the hell was he feeling like he was the bad guy? He kicked the wall, forgetting he wasn't wearing shoes, "Shit, damn it, that hurt." Rising up, he rubbed his sore toes, and grimaced, not from the pain in his foot, but from the vision of Elson's face as they parted in the infirmary earlier in the evening.

When he came up with the plan, he had presented it to Elson, the village leader. Elson was a pragmatic man. He realized that they had only one way out of the situation; the plan John had devised. He had not hesitated in agreeing to carry the plan out; though he was aware it would result in the death of Jervis and his followers. Elson knew it was the only way to save the others.

All the remaining villagers had been safely evacuated through the gate to Atlantis. A few hours later, Sheppard returned to the infirmary to check on their guests. Elson was subdued; sitting quietly to the side as one after another of his constituents were checked out and released to their new quarters. He had come to tell Elson that they had located what they felt was a suitable planet for his people to start over.

Elson had nodded at Sheppard's news, telling him that he was thankful for Atlantis' assistance. He fell silent and Sheppard, not liking awkward moments, was turning to leave when Elson spoke. "How do you do it, Colonel Sheppard? How do you do what we did today, and live with it?"

John swallowed hard, and had turned back to face Elson, "Elson, I think everyone has to figure out their own way of dealing with situations like this. I'm a military man; I've trained for this. I've killed before and I will most likely have to kill again, to protect the people I am responsible for."

"Doesn't it bother you?" There was almost a pleading sound in Elson's voice.

Sheppard had dropped his head; his voice nearly inaudible as he whispered, "Always."

Elson stood up at that point and walked away from Sheppard. As John turned to leave, he saw Elson turn to look back at him, a look of utter remorse on his face. No other words were necessary; Elson's face reflected the emotions that were roiling under the surface of his own stoic expression.

Pushing those thoughts out of his memory, John grabbed his beer from the floor where he left it, chugged it down, and then lay across the bed again. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was 2300 hours; as awake as he was, it was going to be a long night. But at least he wouldn't be bothered. He had gone off the grid, his earpiece was lying next to his laptop, and he had mentally locked his door. No one could get in. He had told Amelia that he was not to be bothered unless Atlantis was under attack, but first let Lorne see if he could handle it without him. Amelia laughed, but she knew he was kidding, or at least partway kidding.

He simply wanted to be alone. He had to deal with what he had done on the mission, compartmentalize it, and go on. He didn't need company to wallow in his moment of self-flagellation. Then the doorbell chimed. He stretched his head backwards, looking at the door upside down. He began to silently chant the mantra, 'go away', interspersed with an occasional, 'don't unlock the door'. The last message was directed at Atlantis. The city had an awful habit of ignoring him if she thought he was in trouble. However, he wasn't worried; he didn't think he was that far gone yet.

He didn't think that. However, after several chimes, followed by a brief period of silence, he heard the door slide open. He dropped his head over the edge of the bed again, just in time to see the whirlwind known as Rodney McKay breeze into his room.

"Sheppard, why the hell didn't you answer? I stood out there like an idiot waving my hand across the damn chime crystal over and over. I had to finally rig the crystals. I knew you were in here; the LSD doesn't lie. And why are you laying across the bed like that; you'll break your neck." Rodney strode across the floor with a purpose, jerking the small refrigerator door open and grabbing a beer. He turned around, made his way to one of the white chairs, flopped down, put his feet up on the ottoman, and opened his beer.

John hadn't moved. "What the fuck are you doing here McKay?"

"Bored and I wanted a beer."

"You don't even like beer."

"I am acquiring a taste, thank you; besides like I said, I'm bored."

"Go be bored somewhere else, Rodney." Sheppard slid forward so that his head was back on the bed.

"Nope, gonna be bored here."

"Well, so much for stimulating conversation then; go away."

"What the hell's your problem, Sheppard?

"My problem, you want to know what my problem is; you. Did you really use the life signs detector to find me?"

Rodney shrugged, "Had to, no one would tell me where you had gone. I followed you as far as the mess hall, but no one saw you after that. I tried to reach you on the radio, no answer. I checked with the control room; Amelia said she hadn't heard from you. When I demanded a citywide search for your dead body, she relented and told me that you didn't want to be disturbed for any reason short of total disaster."

"Amelia didn't say that, Rodney."

Rodney snorted, "No, but I know you…you are in hiding; no hiding for you, flyboy."

John sat up, swung his long legs onto the bed, scooting up until he was leaning against the Ancient column that provided a makeshift headboard. "I will asked again, why the fuck are you here, McKay?"

Rodney's snarky demeanor disappeared, replaced by a serious expression, aimed at Sheppard, "Why are you hiding?"

John held Rodney's gaze for a moment, then snagged his magazine from the nightstand, and began flipping through the pages. Rodney didn't say anything, just waited, while he took another drink from his beer.

After a few minutes, Sheppard looked up, "What?"

"You gonna talk?"

"Nothing to talk about, McKay."

"Really, Sheppard, nothing to talk about, don't go there; I'm not buying."

"McKay, leave."

"Nope, not going anywhere. I had just walked into the infirmary to snatch some ibuprofen, wrenched my back trying to get into that stupid dart with clumsy Carson, when I saw you and Elson talking. Both of you looked like you had been beaten up. So tell me what happened on the planet while Carson and I were guests of the Wraith."

"Nothing."

"Look, Teyla already told me. So you might as well talk."

"If you know, then why are you asking me?"

"Bite me, Sheppard. I know what happened, and I saw the look you exchanged with Elson. If you looked up guilt on Merriman-Webster, you'd find your picture with that look on your face." Sheppard made a snarky face at him, but Rodney ignored him. "You killed villagers today Sheppard, not Wraith, not deserving Genii, you killed a group of villagers. From what I hear they deserved it. Besides, it was the only way to lure the bulk of the Wraith away from the gate. You did what had to be done, but they _were_ villagers. Not sitting too well with you, or with Elson, who helped lure his own people to their death, is it?" Rodney fell silent.

Sheppard stood up, grabbed his now empty beer can and threw it into the wastebasket, where it made a clinking sound as it hit the first beer can he had emptied. He crossed the room to the refrigerator, taking the next to last beer from the cold box. He reached beside the refrigerator into a plastic crate and pulled out another twelve-pack carton of beer, which he sat in the fridge. Turning around he pulled the tab from the new can, taking a drink.

Rodney was watching him closely, "Beer number three, Sheppard? You never drink more than two."

"Must be your company, Rodney."

"Talk to me, Sheppard. I saw your face. I know you are really troubled by what happened today."

"Since when did you become a shrink, Rodney?" Sheppard returned to his bed.

"John, I'm being serious. This wasn't Koyla invading Atlantis with soldiers, or the Wraith attacking the city. This was a group of villagers; farmers, shopkeepers, miners…who took a stand; the wrong stand, granted. You talked Elson into luring his own people to their deaths. John, I'm not saying that was wrong, it was what you had to do to save everyone else."

Sheppard didn't say anything; his eyes were intense, hard, and he didn't take them off Rodney.

They sat in silence, staring at each other until, Rodney had had enough.

"You know what makes me crazy; that you are a pigheaded fool. Do you honestly think that we don't know when you're in pain, when you're running from what you're feeling? Hell, I am not very good at this either, Sheppard, but, damn it, I didn't press the detonator and blow up a bunch of medieval farmers." He got up and started pacing.

Rodney found himself in front of the window. He took a deep breath, "Damn, you have a better view of the pier than I do." Sheppard didn't comment.

"Look, John, I'm not saying you have to lay out all your emotions for us to step on. But, I know you; you put up this façade, this strong macho, military 'I can kill and then forget about it,' persona. I don't believe that for a moment. You are a real softie, you just won't admit it. You care about everyone, too much I think. You can't keep this bottled up, John. It'll eat you alive."

"Rodney, go pester Carson."

"Don't try to change the subject on me; besides he's obsessed with the research Jennifer's done on the Hoffan plague, barely got him to eat dinner. Supposed to have lunch with him tomorrow, but he'll probably cancel."

"So, pestering me was an afterthought?" Sheppard's comment only resulted in a very snarky glare from McKay.

"That's it, wallow in your pain, see if I care. You know, Teyla's has Torren to ground her; Ronon goes to the gym and takes his frustrations out on the Marines. What the hell do we have, Sheppard? Nothing, nothing because you won't talk. Did you know that Carson let a Wraith try to feed on him in order to get us off the Hive ship? Did you know Michael gave him the Hoffan drug? You're not the only one with pain. I could have lost both my best friends today; I could have died. I was on a Hive ship. But you know what, sorry I bothered you."

John realized he had been holding his breath as Rodney ranted, but, with each word, what was really going on became clearer. Rodney was suffering from today's events just as much he was. He wasn't use to talking about the things he had to do, or listening to the pain of others. But he got it; Rodney was there to help him. Because Rodney recognized what it took from his soul to make some of the decisions he had to make. Rodney knew, because the scientist lost a bit of his soul every time his friends were in danger.

He watched as Rodney threw his empty beer can into the wastebasket and turned to leave. He was almost at the door when Sheppard spoke.

"Hey, buddy, you're right. It's been a rough day; maybe we should talk about it. However, I need coffee, let me get my shoes and a shirt, and we'll go to the mess. I think they still have that apple pie you liked so well yesterday." Sheppard grabbed a shirt, slipped on his sneakers, and joined Rodney at the door.

"Apple pie, did they still have apple pie today?" Rodney asked with a delighted gleam in his eyes.

Sheppard grinned, "You know, come to think of it that might have been lemon meringue I saw tonight. I love lemon meringue pie."

Sheppard had walked ahead, while Rodney stared at his back, "Bite me, Sheppard," but he followed his friend anyway.

_The end…_

I appreciate you taking time to read this little episode tag. I would love to hear your thoughts.

Thanks!


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